


Holding Out For A Hero

by thelilacfield



Series: there is no world where i am not yours [17]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), F/M, Falling In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Sam Wilson, I’ll be the official photographer for this article, and this is Victor Shade, he’ll be writing and asking the questions.”“Hi Vision.” Vision look up and his mouth drops open slightly when he sees the Scarlet Witch standing in front of him.“You remember me?”“I always remember the cute ones."
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: there is no world where i am not yours [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859725
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Holding Out For A Hero

**A/N:** AU-dvent day 7! Something long-unfinished that wasn't based in AU-gust, at last! This has been a long languishing fic and this challenge finally made me finish it. A retelling of the first Avengers movie if Wanda had been involved and Vision was a reporter. We all know it's just a basis for Vision to fall in love with superhero Wanda.

I'm on Tumblr and Twitter **@mximoffromanoff** if anybody wants to chat about all things scarletvision! Enjoy, and please let me know with a comment if you do :)

* * *

**_CAPTAIN AMERICA OFFICIALLY RETIRES: EXCLUSIVE PHOTOGRAPHS INSIDE!_ **

**_Darcy Lewis_ **

**_Photography by Ian Boothby_ **

_After seventy-five years of devoted service to our great nation, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, the first superhero of the modern age, has chosen to take retirement at the age of one hundred. It is a time of mourning for so many people who have grown up watching Rogers save the day in his familiar red, white and blue suit._

" _But every man has to hang up his shield sometime," he says with a melancholy smile, greying hair slicked back from his proud face, the eyes even bluer in person than they appear through cameras. "I've watched this wonderful country become something bigger than I ever imagined it could be. I've become something more than I ever imagined I could be. And, hard as it is to admit, America has outgrown me."_

_I try to reassure him that America could never outgrow their first hero, but he simply smiles and squeezes my hand. "This country has given me everything," he says. "A chance that a skinny sick boy from Brooklyn should never have gotten. An amazing life where I've had the opportunity to work with people who have become my closest friends in the world. A generation of new heroes I've been able to train and watch grow. My amazing wife, my beautiful family, and a retirement home with a bathroom bigger than the apartment I grew up in. All I can really say is thank you."_

"Christ, Darce, you laid it on pretty thick," Sam teases, and Darcy rolls up the newspaper she's reading from and hits him over the head with it. "'Eyes even bluer in person'? How'd you get that one past Fury?"

"Phil approved it," Darcy snaps, clutching the newspaper to her chest. "You're just jealous that me and Ian got to cover Captain America's retirement party instead of you and Vision. All you got to do was take more photos of Stark Tower."

"And she did lay it on thick with Peggy Carter-Rogers too," Thor says, grinning a mile wide despite Darcy glaring at him, smoothing out his copy of the interview. Putting on a high-pitched voice that is seemingly supposed to be an imitation of Darcy, he reads, "'At this moment the brilliant and beautiful Mrs. Carter-Rogers strides over to us, and he looks at her with a love that has lasted through seventy-five years of the entire nation watching their relationship with bated breath. As stunning today as she was during her and Rogers' courtship during World War Two - both of them have aged incredibly gracefully - the woman who shocked the world by rising through the ranks of secret intelligence to co-found the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division commands the room in a floor-length gown-"

"Alright, enough!" Darcy snaps, snatching the paper away from Thor as he and Sam guffaw over the article. "You don't have to rag on my first big article!"

"I think it's wonderfully written, Darcy," Vision says, and she smiles at him, squeezing his arm.

"See, Vision is nice to me!" she snaps at Sam, who doesn't have the grace to look ashamed. "I was gonna ask head office if you would be my photographer for covering the Stark charity masquerade but I guess I'll just see if Quill is free and not abusing substances that night."

"Wait, why do you want me?" Sam asks. "Ian's photos in this article look great, he almost makes you look human instead of the demon that you are."

"Very funny," Darcy says sourly, and Vision takes a sip of his coffee to hide a smile. "Ian keeps asking me out, and I'm running out of excuses to turn him down."

"So say yes," Thor says with a slight shrug, pouring yet another sachet of sugar into his coffee, apparently oblivious to Sam's disgusted grimace. "He's liked you since the day he started working here, you flirt with him all the time, you guys made out in the supply closet at the holiday party-"

"Little louder, hammer-boy, I think that little old deaf guy who cleans the upstairs offices didn't hear you," Darcy remarks, to Sam snorting unattractively into his coffee. "We don't talk about the office party. Mistakes were made."

"I think Phil's wife was actually pretty pleased when you called her a ball-buster," Vision says, and watches the blush creep up Darcy's neck.

"I can't date Ian because I don't date coworkers," she says, and Sam's eyes light up.

"So that's why you've always refused to go on a date with me!" he exclaims, and Darcy gives him a withering look.

"That is not the reason I've never gone on a date with you, Wilson," she says, and smirks at Sam's wounded look.

"Wilson, Odinsson, Lewis, Shade." Vision sees Sam wince at the sound of their editor's voice, and slowly turn his head to give Fury a weak smile. "This is a coffee machine. Not a break room. Meeting for all reporters in conference room C in five minutes. Don't keep me waiting."

"God he's scary," Sam says as soon as Fury is out of earshot. "Glad that photographers answer to Phil instead of him."

"Well researchers answer to Maria, and she is terrifying," Thor says.

"But sexy," Darcy remarks, and Vision shakes his head at his friends.

"Let's continue this game of whose boss is more terrifying later and go to this meeting, Darcy," he says, and walks off without waiting for her to finish her tea. His reputation for always being perfectly on time if not early to meetings will not be ruined by his friends and their pathological need to gossip at the coffee machine and the water cooler and the microwave.

Fury starts the meeting with his requisite silent stare around the room, just long enough to intimidate every reporter, no matter how long they've been working for his paper. It's Vision's sixth year on the payroll, and he still wouldn't like to cross their editor-in-chief. "Alright, listen up," he says, voice deep and slow and demanding everyone pays attention. "Our coverage on Steve Rogers' retirement has been received excellently. That article is our all-time most-viewed page on the website. Good job, Lewis."

"Oh, um...thank you, sir," Darcy says, ducking her head to hide her blush, and Fury gives her a nod that might be called approving.

"But we have to hit the ground running," he continues. "Every news outlet in the country is clamouring to know who'll replace Rogers. Whether Stark will step into those shoes and be the new symbol of America."

"Of course he won't," Hope scoffs from her front and centre seat. "He'll just keep making fancy red and gold machines and living it up all over the world with Ms. Potts. His life is too important to risk except for international threats."

"Research has been working hard on this, and we have managed to come upon the information that it will not be any of Rogers' established co-workers who step into his shoes," Fury says, and the energy in the room grows, the buzzing of a possible exclusive a catalyst to excitement in a room of reporters. "Black Widow and Hawkeye will be taking over as heads of training the new heroes the team finds. Iron Man and War Machine have no interest in becoming a national symbol of America. Hulk is obviously a little unstable to become the superhero who symbolises what superheroes are meant to be. And, our researchers have discovered, with SHIELD now in the hands of Melinda May pressure is being applied to promote more superheroines."

"So they're replacing Captain America with a _woman_?!" comes an incredulous exclamation from somewhere in the room, and Vision sees Darcy's eyes flash with anger. "Hope she's hot."

"As if anyone would be interested in your tiny dick, Rumlow," Darcy snaps, hair flying when she whips her head around to glare at the office's least favourite reporter.

"This is an office, not a high school," Fury says coolly. "For that comment, Rumlow, you're off any stories relating to this scoop. Shade." Vision glances up from making notes at the sound of his name, to find Fury looking directly at him. "I want you on this new superhero."

" _Me_?" Vision exclaims, just as Darcy squeezes his hand, her eyes shining with pride.

"You've been here the longest of anyone, you're a great writer and your partnership with Wilson has provided my paper with some of its greatest hits," Fury says, the praise making an incredulous smile pull at the corners of Vision's mouth. "Whoever this mysterious woman is who Rogers has set up to replace him, you're going to be the first reporter in the world to meet with her. An exclusive meeting. Just you, her, and Wilson to take photographs."

"Oh." He can't think of anything else to say. Six years at the same desk, working on articles about the superhero phenomenon that swept the nation, writing about SHIELD and supervillains and the people behind the masks and costumes, and he's never been offered the first exclusive before.

"Do you want the article or not, Shade?" Fury asks, impatience evident in his tone.

"Yes sir, of course," Vision says, and Darcy lets out a faint squeal at his side. "I'd be honoured to take this on."

"Excellent," Fury says. "Meeting adjourned. I assume you will let Wilson know his camera will be required at the coffee machine, Shade?"

"Yes sir," Vision says, trying not to flush at the pointedness of Fury's words, and follows Darcy out of the room, head reeling.

As soon as the door slams shut, Darcy squeals loudly and jumps on him in a hug. "I'm so proud of you!" she squeals in his ear, nearly deafening him. "This is such a huge opportunity! A brand-new superhero, and you're covering it!"

"I can't believe it," he says, breathless and in shock. "I don't deserve this."

"Believe it, Vision, because you do and you're getting it!" she says, and hugs him for one more moment before jumping away, eyes bright. "We have to tell Sam and Thor!"

Dragging him by the elbow behind her, she shoves through a crowd of junior photographers hovering by the microwave and finds Sam and Thor at Sam's desk, Thor halfway into his second sandwich and Sam sitting with his feet propped up on his desk drinking Red Bull. "Guess what?!" Darcy shouts in a sing-song manner.

"We're getting written up again for gossiping at the coffee machine during work hours?" Sam deadpans, leaning further back in his chair.

"No, pretty sure Fury's accepted by now that that's just what we do and we're all too good at our jobs to fire for having workplace friendships," Darcy says. "No, Sam, you and Vision have the first exclusive on the superhero that Rogers set up to replace him! You're gonna be the very first reporters in the world to meet her and get to hear her story!"

Nearly falling off his chair in his haste to sit up straight, knocking an unused coffee mug full of pens off his desk, Sam manages to sit up straight, eyes wide and bright. "We're on an exclusive?!" he shouts, and Vision nods. "And Captain America is getting replaced by a woman?!"

"Oh, I knew that," Thor says, to wide-eyed looks from Darcy and Sam. "What? I'm in research, it's my job to know these things! Loki was chasing the lead for weeks before he managed to find all this out."

"Ugh, don't talk about your brother," Darcy says with a shudder. "He creeps me out."

"He's my brother," Thor says, eyes clouding over. "And he's good at his job."

"You can't trust anyone who has a lock on their bedroom door," Sam says sagely, tearing open a pre-packaged fruit salad. "He's a little _too_ good at his job, if you know what I mean. Wouldn't want to be someone who has a lead he wants, that's all I'm saying."

"Leave him alone," Thor snaps, a dangerous edge to his voice, and a cloud of tension descends on what is usually a comfortable space, setting Vision's teeth on edge.

"Paychecks!" comes Cameron's familiar shout, dissolving the moment as he peers over the top of Sam's desk with his familiar genial smile. "Don't spend them all at once now!"

"Get my landlord to stop raising my rent and I'll keep that promise, cutie," Darcy says with a wink, and Fury's assistant races off, blushing furiously.

"I see how it is," Sam says, narrowing his eyes at Darcy. "You can flirt with your co-workers, but you can't date them."

"Cameron's just a kid, he gets so flustered, I do it for my own amusement," she says through a smirk, deliberately ignorant of Sam's disgruntled expression. "There's a reason I don't flirt with you, Wilson."

"Anyone else heading to the bank after work?" Vision asks, hoping to distract his trio of friends from arguing with each other, whether playful or not. "No? Just me?"

"It's date night," Thor says with a shrug.

"I need to Skype my sister, call my mom and finish painting my bedroom walls," Sam says.

"I have an urgent date with a passive aggressive email to my landlord about how the curtain rod in my kitchen is still broken," Darcy says, and Vision shakes his head.

"Guess I'll go it alone for the evening then," he says, and returns to his desk and the cold leftovers of last night's pasta, clicking into his copy on the latest Stark Tower development and starting to type one-handed.

When the working day is over, he packs his laptop and the papers he needs to look at overnight into his briefcase, pulls his sunglasses down against the bright rays of the evening sun and heads for the bank, the lines of people waiting to deposit paychecks into their accounts humming with impatience. Joining the end of what seems to be the shortest line, Vision drifts into his imagination, wondering about the newest superhero the world will soon have its eyes on. Who she could be. As of yet, the only woman to reach any prominence as a superhero is Natasha Romanoff, and cynics would say that her success was born mostly of her ties to Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, and the publicity generated by the persistent wondering whether her ties to either were romantic - despite Rogers being much older than her and happily married. He can't help but wonder why Captain America would choose an unknown to replace him as America's best-known superhero.

The faint sound of screaming reaches him before the rattle of gunshots chills him to the bone. He freezes completely, knuckles turning white he's clutching the handle of his briefcase so tightly, breathing going shallow, heart pounding hollowly. He watches a bank worker, a young woman with determination in his eyes despite her face ashen with fear, reach for an alarm, but the boom of a voice shouting, "Touch that and everyone in this building dies," makes her pause.

It's a crowd of petty thieves, guns raised, but the leader of the group is a man Vision recognises. Werner von Strucker is notorious for being the son of Wolfgang von Strucker, a frontrunner in the weapons trading game and the criminal associate that got Ulysses Klaue arrested. People scoff at Werner and say he's too young and is just trying to live up to his father's fame, but he seems terrifying with a gun in his hand and his jaw gritted. "Step back from the alarm and raise your hands," he snaps at the worker, now with tears glistening in her eyes, and she moves back, visibly trembling. "Everyone on the ground." When no one moves, frozen in fear, he fires a bullet towards one of the ornate windows, shattering it and prompting screams and sobs. "Don't make me ask twice."

Vision ducks down with everyone else, and hopelessness invades him, making him feel hollow. He meets the frightened eyes of those around him, feels a terrible jolt of horror when he sees a mother sheltering her toddler beneath her body, and wonders if he could reach his phone to dial 911 without being noticed. But he can't risk that Strucker will hear the sirens and simply start shooting. The people have to be kept safe, and the easiest way to do that is cooperation.

A faint shadow of red crosses across the intact windows, a flicker so quick he's not sure whether he actually saw it. Then an awestruck gasp that swells through the room, and Strucker turns on his heel as a woman Vision has never seen before hovers in the frame of the broken window. His breath catches in his chest for reasons more than fear of the guns gleaming dangerously in the thieves' hands as he stares at her. Her dark hair surrounds her pale face like a halo, moving as if she's in water, drawing attention to the sharp cut of her cheekbones and her eyes glowing as red as the crackling energy flickering around her hands. She's laced into a deep red corset, red coat fluttering around her shoulders like a cape on the swell of power, and she's looking at Strucker with a sort of pity in her eyes. "I wish this wasn't how we were reunited, Werner," she says, and her accent isn't American, and Vision can't quite figure out where it originates.

"Move aside, witch," Strucker spits. "Don't think I won't destroy you."

"In your dreams," she says darkly, and clenches a fist to bring a shield of shimmering red up around herself that the bullets Strucker fires a moment later glance harmlessly off. "Let these people go, leave this building, and I won't have to hurt you."

"See, you shouldn't have said that," Strucker says, and points his gun at the one worker who tried to alert the police, and she lets out a broken sob. "Now I have to kill them all."

One moment, it seems as if the hope is gone and they're all going to die. Then scarlet shields slam up around every person in the building, the bullets crumble into nothing and the mysterious superhero is landing lightly on the marble floor, standing between Strucker and the crowd Vision is a part of. "Over my dead body," she snarls, and Strucker cocks his gun.

"With pleasure," he snaps, and moves towards her, the two of them vanishing into a cloud of shimmering power.

"Run!" Vision hears himself shout, not sure when he made the decision to be a hero. One of Strucker's associates tries to move forward, but Vision watches himself swing his arm as if in slow motion, crashing his briefcase into the man's legs and knocking him down. "Get out of here!"

People finally start to move, flooding towards the emergency exits, and Vision sprints across the floor, jumping over the employee barrier and slamming a hand onto the button to alert the police. Alarms start to blare, echoing through the air, and he turns around just in time to swing a fist into the face of the man running full-speed at him, knife in hand. The weapon skitters away across the floor, and Vision punches again, surprised by his own strength. It has to be the adrenaline, because his attacker slumps to the floor.

Briefcase in hand, he swings it into the side of the third thief, who crashes to the ground winded and gasping for breath. The fourth gets a hit in on him, knocking him back, but he kicks out and catches him by the ankle, pulling him down to the ground. A gleam of silver alerts him to the presence of a knife too late to dodge the slice that lands across his forearm, making him yell out at the pain. But another kick and the knife is gone, and Vision swings his fist hard enough into the man's face to feel his nose break, and crawls away until he can stand, blood trickling down his arm and staining his shirt.

The last of the innocent people are trickling out of the doors, and he glances at the woman who saved them, defending herself from the bullets Strucker just keeps firing, his attempted shots glancing off the bubble of scarlet surrounding her. "Coward!" he shouts. "Come out from behind that and fight me!" A wail of police sirens, relief coursing through Vision's body and making him dizzy, and Strucker's face contorts with rage. "You bitch. I should've killed you when I had the chance."

"But you didn't," she taunts, and dodges another bullet.

Strucker drops the gun, and Vision thinks it might at last be over. But he sees a gleam of silver, and instinctively screams, "He has a knife!" seconds before Strucker lunges, eyes flashing with anger.

Vision watches in awe as the woman rises into the air just in time to avoid being hurt, lifting herself over Strucker and landing behind him. "What would your father say if he saw you now?" she asks, so soft Vision can barely hear her, and his curiosity piques when he sees Strucker blanch in fear.

"I don't answer to my father," he snaps, though suddenly he looks so young and afraid.

"Daddy dearest won't be impressed that his son is out there trying to destroy his experiments," she says, and her voice is hard and cruel. "Don't make me do this, Werner. You know what I can do to people."

"I'll kill you first," he snarls, and she gives him a pitying look before she lifts her hand and presses a finger to his temple.

Strucker drops to the ground like a stone, unconscious, and she finally lands fully on the ground, the red fading from her skin and her eyes, and her face falls from the sure mask of battle into concern as she approaches Vision. "You're hurt," she says softly, and he notices for the first time how painful the wound across his arm is as the adrenaline drains out of him, and that there's rather a lot of blood staining his skin. "You shouldn't have stayed behind."

"I wanted to help," he says faintly, temporarily lost in her eyes. With the red faded from them, they're a stunning shade of green, and so kind.

"You did," she says, and a warm swell of pride fills his chest. "Let's get you out of here and into an ambulance. You might end up with a bit of a scar. And I think those clothes are going to be wrecked."

"I've never seen you before," he says, and a slight flush colours her pale cheeks. "Who are you?"

"The boys in marketing call me the Scarlet Witch," she says, with a self-conscious tug on her corset. "I'm new." He gives her a slight smile, and the way she smiles back makes his heart skip. "I have to get out of here. They don't want me making my debut just yet."

A tug on his arm, and she guides him out onto the sidewalk, flooded with terrified people, police already rushing into the building and ambulances waiting to take anyone injured. "Hey!" she calls, and a paramedic rushes over. "You look after this guy, okay? He risked his life to help me."

"Yes ma'am," the paramedic says, running an admiring gaze over her, and she smiles. "Come with me, sir, we'll take a look at that cut."

"Thank you," he says, and turns shyly to the Scarlet Witch when the paramedic walks away to speak with someone else. "Don't worry about me. I just didn't want anyone to get hurt. You were the real hero, Miss...um, Scarlet Witch."

"You did a good job," she reassures him, smiling. "And, just between us, my name is Wanda. And you are?"

"Victor," he says quietly. "But everyone calls me Vision."

"Cute," she says, and squeezes the wrist of his uninjured arm gently. "I hope we'll meet again, Vision."

"I hope so too," he says, and watches her walk deliberately into the centre of the crowd. When the paramedic comes back to him, asking questions about his name and his insurance, he watches for a moment longer and sees a momentary red glow disappearing behind a building, and a blush creeps unbidden up his neck.

He thinks about Wanda while they stitch him up, while they lecture him about the inevitability of scarring, while Darcy chews him out for an hour over the phone for trying to be a hero, when Sam sends a series of texts checking that he's okay, and while he lies in bed trying to ignore the twinge of pain in his arm and get to sleep. Seeing her again twines through his dreams, and he hopes that next time he won't look like an idiot hitting people with his briefcase and getting injured while trying to be the kind of hero he's always wanted to be.

* * *

The office is abuzz with excitement about America's newest superhero arriving for her interview, and Darcy is spinning in her chair and giving Vision a withering look as he holds two ties up against his shirt. "They look exactly the same, Vision," she says, and she sounds so physically exhausted by him that guilt twinges at the back of his neck.

"They're not!" he protests. "This one is a honey yellow, but this is much more of a cyber yellow!"

"Do you _actually_ spend your weekends staring at paint sample charts, because I thought that was just a rumour," she snaps, slamming another file onto the pile next to her keyboard, and he feels himself flushing with embarrassment. "Go ask Sam."

He finds Sam adjusting the settings on his camera while sitting on the edge of Vision's desk, having moved a stack of books he's been reading on the rise of the superhero phenomena, impeccably dressed in a bright red suit, bold as usual. "Sam? Which tie?"

A single glance, and Sam says, "The cyber yellow. Looks better with that shirt." Throwing the rejected tie in the vague direction of his desk, Vision knots the chosen one with trembling fingers, smoothing it down over his deep red shirt. "You know, I love this colour experimentation today," Sam says, just as Vision is self-consciously tugging at his blazer. "Normally you're very black suit, white shirt, grey tie. Now you're bringing out the maroon, the yellow and the navy all at once?"

"Does it look good?" he asks doubtfully, and Sam claps him on the shoulder.

"We are a couple of fine-looking fellows, my friend," he says, with just a hint of his ridiculously terrible English accent, and Vision can't help but smile slightly. "This girl isn't gonna know where to look."

"Mr. Wilson!" The soft-spoken familiarity of Coulson calling down the corridor makes Vision wish that he'd gone into photography rather than writing, and could therefore answer to such a genial, charming boss. "She's just arrived. She's being escorted upstairs, then you and Mr. Shade will be able to greet her."

"Awesome," Sam says, then turns to Vision with excitement glinting in his eyes and a bright smile. "This is it. We're about to do something the whole world wants to do."

Coulson leads them to the private conference room where they'll be meeting with the superhero, and Vision doesn't miss the admiring look Sam gives the woman standing outside the door, all in black, and barely refrains from rolling his eyes. "Agent Johnson," Coulson says, and she smiles at him.

"Mr. May," she says, and he shakes his head fondly.

"You know I actually did not change my name when I got married," he says, and her face splits into a grin.

"Director says we have to call you Mr. May," she teases, and Coulson smiles. "You two can go in."

"You're not coming in to protect her?" Sam asks, with a flirtatious quirk to the corner of his mouth, and the woman gives him such a withering look that Vision has to swallow a soft laugh.

"Ms. Maximoff can take care of herself," she says, and stands aside.

Shaking off the rejection, Sam strides into the room hand extended for a shake, saying, "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I'm Sam Wilson, I'll be the official photographer for this article, and this is Victor Shade, he'll be writing and asking the questions."

"Hi Vision." The familiar accent, one that his nights trying to sleep have led him to deduce is vaguely Eastern European, makes Vision look up and his mouth drop open slightly when he sees the Scarlet Witch standing in front of him. She looks so different than she did in the bank, hair neatly pulled back from her face and clothed in a pristine and perfectly-tailored suit, black skirt and blazer with a scarlet shirt, smiling at him.

"You remember me?" he asks, and his voice is hoarse with surprise.

Eyes bright, perfectly manicured nails gleaming when she lifts a hand to pull her hair back behind her ear, she says, "I always remember the cute ones," and lets out a giggle when he blushes, ducking his head to try and hide. "Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Wanda Maximoff, but when you write about me you'll also have to say that people should be calling me the Scarlet Witch."

"Yeah, what's with all these codenames?" Sam asks, leaning against the filing cabinet the way he always does in interviews, casual and open and charming. "What did you have to do to earn being called a witch?"

"Well," she says, and smiles as she lifts a hand and gestures, leaving a trail of glowing scarlet mist twisting on the air, reflected bright in Sam's wide eyes. "It's not magic, but it's the closest the boys in marketing who come up with our codenames have ever seen."

"So what is it?" Vision asks softly, and when she looks up and their eyes meet his heart skips a beat, his chest clenching, and it takes him a moment to compose himself, trying to step into the professional shoes of the reporter gaining the world exclusive on the identity of Captain America's replacement.

"Molecular manipulation," she says, and with another errant gesture a wire pencil holder floats a few inches off the desk, and Vision sees her eyes glow momentarily red, just as bright as they did when she fought off Strucker in the bank. "Basically, I could make anything move the way I want it to."

"Intriguing," Sam says, as Vision takes a seat at the desk, gesturing to Wanda to take the one opposite, head still spinning with seeing her again. "So what made someone who can do magic the ideal replacement for Captain America?"

"Sam, please, let me ask Ms. Maximoff the questions," Vision says, exasperated, and Sam shrugs and smirks at him while Wanda giggles. "Tea or coffee before we start, Ms. Maximoff?"

"I've already had enough coffee today, thank you," she says warmly, and he hates that his heart skips when she speaks. He's being ridiculous enough to have that fluttering in his chest when he thinks about the beautiful superhero who saved him in the bank, never mind having the same flutter when she's sitting directly in front of him and he has to be professional and interview her. "And please, just call me Wanda. I'm not used to all this formality yet."

Reshuffling his papers out of nervous habit, Vision sets the recorder on the table between them and gives the slight gesture to Sam that he knows will be read as the signal to put on the mask of professionalism. "So, Ms. Maximoff," he begins, and he watches her body language change, the way she straightens up and clasps her hands in her lap and swallows, so aware of her eyes on him, "would you care to tell the world exactly who you are?"

"I'm the Scarlet Witch," she says, and there's pride in her eyes that makes him smile softly to see. "I'm the bisexual orphan immigrant who's about to take over Captain America's position as this country's most public superhero."

Sam barks out a laugh and Vision smiles, and asks, "And what do you want the world to hear in your first public interview?"

"Just that I am as committed to protecting people as Steve ever was," she says. "No one should have to live in fear of a force bigger than them. I'm here to stop that."

The interview continues without a hitch, but Vision still feels the pressure weighing on his shoulders, and not simply because it's the first exclusive he's ever been handed. Wanda's eyes on him, bright and happy and proud, make him stumble over his words, forget his sentences halfway through, lose track of the interview's direction. Everything in him just wants to know more about _Wanda_ , not the Scarlet Witch. But that's not the job he has to do, and he has to simply ask about SHIELD and the Avengers and superheroes, not about her past and her hopes and her dreams.

"Finally, Ms. Maximoff, where is your focus going to be as a superhero?" he asks, his recorder flashing repeatedly to let him know its memory is almost full. "We know that Captain Rogers focused on stamping out bullies and on destroying any branch of HYDRA that attempted to rise from the ashes."

"We will of course continue to ensure that HYDRA doesn't gain the strength to return," she says, and he nods. "But I have a different kind of power. I believe, and there are others in SHIELD who agree with me, that the world might soon become a much more dangerous place. I want to stop those threats before anybody gets hurt."

"What kind of threats?" Sam chimes in before Vision can get the question out, and Vision doesn't think he imagines the darkness that clouds Wanda's eyes in the momentary silence, her hand creeping over her wrist, one slender finger tracing a blotchy silvery scar marring her skin.

"Extraterrestrial," she says softly, as if she's forgotten they're there at all. "Aliens. Beings who believe the Earth is ready for a higher plane of warfare." She grits her teeth, her eyes flash, and she once again looks like the woman who fought Strucker as she says, "But I'm going to stop them."

Entranced by the fire of fury in her eyes, Vision simply gazes at her until the flash of Sam's camera pulls him back into reality, and he clears his throat and says, "Thank you for coming to see us today, Ms. Maximoff. It's an honour to be the first to meet you."

"Of course, we'll always come to your paper first, director's orders," she says, smiling in a way that lifts her eyes and makes her shine. "This will only be the first of many, many interviews." She smiles at him and adds, "I doubt anyone else is going to be as fun as you, Vision."

Hesitating, mouth suddenly dry, Vision finally manages to say, "We pride ourselves on our interviews here. Hopefully we've made you comfortable enough to consider returning."

"Trust me, there's no worry about me not coming back," she says, and Vision sees Sam smirking out of the corner of his eye, and wills himself not to blush at the warm smile Wanda gives him. "Thank you for being so nice to me. I knew you were a good guy."

"Just doing my job, Ms. Maximoff," he says, words catching in his throat at the way she's looking at him, the exact colour of her eyes imprinting itself on his memory.

"Wanda," she corrects gently, and he feels the blush creeping up his neck, breaking eye contact bashfully when she giggles. "You'll have to send the SHIELD PR department proofs of the photos before you put them online or in paper, Mr. Wilson."

"Will do, they can't possibly be worse than the Stark Industries PR," Sam says, and holds out a hand for Wanda to shake. "Lovely to meet you, Ms. Witch. Anyone would be lucky to get rescued by a lady as charming as you."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out for you needing rescued," she says sweetly, and Sam grins. When she turns her gaze on Vision, he hastily holds his hand out to her, hoping his palm isn't clammy with nervous sweat, and tries not to start at the spark when their fingers brush together. He's supposed to be long past schoolboy crushes.

As Wanda's hand leaves his, there's a crinkle of paper, and a light in her eyes as she adjusts her blazer and untangles a strand of hair from one of her earrings. "Agent Johnson will escort me out," she says. "Can't wait to read your article, Vision."

"Thank you," he says faintly, and after the door swings shut he glances down to see a scrap of a post-it in his hand, a number scrawled across it in extravagantly loopy handwriting and the message _in case you need rescuing again ;)_ written beneath it.

"You bastard," Sam says, close enough to Vision's ear that he starts. "Not only do you get the exclusive on America's newest and prettiest superhero, but she's also flirting with you."

"She's not flirting with me!" Vision exclaims, the very thought absurd. Wanda is so beautiful, all dark hair and sharp cheekbones and green eyes and her soft smile, she couldn't possibly think that a mere newspaper reporter is attractive when she's about to be catapulted into celebrity.

"The wink means it's flirtatious," Sam says with all the sage wisdom of a self-proclaimed ladies man. "You gotta do it, man. For all of us."

* * *

**_WANDA MAXIMOFF IS THE SCARLET WITCH: AMERICA'S NEWEST SUPERHERO_ **

**_Victor Shade_ **

**_Photography by Sam Wilson_ **

_The superheroes of our great nation have been defending us against the threats of our world for years, standing against organisations and individuals who would harm us. We know their names, their faces, their costumes. Many have caught glimpses of Clint Barton (Hawkeye) buying coffee, or Tony Stark (Iron Man) entertaining his adoring public at conventions and meet-ups. There is something reassuring in knowing that they hover above the world, keeping watch and ready to protect us. And now, they have a new member in their ranks._

" _I'm the bisexual orphan immigrant who's about to take over Captain America's position as this country's most public superhero," Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch) says wryly, smiling at her own self-deprecation. Code-named for the colour of her molecular manipulation, she was an enhanced out on the streets until Barton discovered her and took her into the arms of SHIELD, seeing a potential in her that she is incredibly grateful to be able to show the world._

" _I've made some mistakes," she says. "I spent too many years motivated by revenge and anger, furious at the world for everything it's taken from me. Agent Barton rescued me from myself. Without SHIELD taking a chance on me, I might have ended up one of the people the Avengers fight against."_

_Maximoff makes no secret of her troubled past, speaking freely about her childhood in Sokovia, a small Eastern European country still repairing itself after being torn apart by bloody civil wars that began when she was a child. "I lost my parents in the war," she says - she is the daughter of Django Maximoff, who achieved a height of fame before his death as the leader of a group standing up to the rebels who began the civil war. "It's in my blood to stand up for what is right," she says with a slight smile. "I promise that I won't let the world down. I want to be your hero."_

_Asked how it feels to be the youngest superhero America has yet seen and chosen to step into the extraordinarily large shoes of Captain America, she laughs and says, "When you put it that way, it sounds intimidating. But Director May made this decision, and it must be the right one. The symbol of heroism doesn't always have to be the blonde-haired blue-eyed American darling. Maybe now everyone will see they can be a hero. No matter when they're from."_

"See, aren't you glad I edited it down a little before you sent it to Fury?" Sam asks as Vision once again skims through the article prominently displayed on the website, the sight of his byline on such a prestigious story making happiness glow warm in his chest. "You can't leave in so many lines that make it obvious you're falling for the girl. It's just not professional."

"I'm not falling for her!" Vision protests, just a little too readily to sound honest. The scrap of paper with her number scrawled on it is still on his desk, tucked into the organiser still decorated with diamantés from a day Darcy was bored. "I think she seems very nice, and she is a pretty young woman."

"Please, just pretty?" Sam asks with a roll of his eyes. "You and I both know she has just become the hottest superhero out there. _And_ she was flirting with you!"

"Don't be silly," Vision says, moments before Darcy swings around his cubicle, three pencils sticking out of her bun and a gleam in her eyes.

"Your girlfriend's on TV, Mr. Shade," she says, and before he can protest she's sauntered away. And despite himself, he switches the channel on the overhead TV away from music to the news, showing a fragment of an earlier press conference with the Avengers, Steve Rogers still gilded and golden at the centre of the table, and his stomach lurches seeing Wanda there. Sat at Rogers' right, her hair tumbling free over her shoulders, and she doesn't look nervous at all. Confident and bold and so beautiful he can't take his eyes off her.

"Captain Rogers, why have you chosen to retire now? You've served us for so long, I know I'm not the only one who never imagined a time without you."

"Well, as glamorous as it may look this is still a job," Rogers says, prompting a laugh, smiling around the room, the all-American boy next door. "And I've done this for a long time. I'm an old man now. I want my last years to be with my wife and my kids, I want to have a hand in raising my great-grandchildren, and we want a dog." Another rumble of laughter, and irritation spikes in Vision's chest at how effortlessly charming Rogers is. "I'll still be around to help the team, but I'm hanging up the shield."

"Gives us an excuse to throw a party for him," Stark says with the usual grin, another roll of laughter. Looking at the group seated at the table, the six original superheroes, Vision can only wonder how the world will respond to Wanda joining this perfect set. Where Rogers is the leader, the golden boy. Stark the charmer, the one who makes the most headlines and draws the crowds. Rhodes the level-headed one, with an easy smile and dry humour. Banner brings the intrigue, the mystery, though in press conferences he's just a man with a benign smile behind his glasses. Barton with his ever-present cup of coffee, so easy for reporters to talk to, putting everyone at ease. And how will Romanoff feel about no longer being the only woman in the game? Her red hair and all-black outfits have become so familiar to the world, he just doesn't understand how Wanda will rise to their level.

"And why choose an unknown to replace you?" The question makes the group visibly bristle, Barton drawing himself to his full height in his chair, something flashing in Romanoff's eyes. "Why not any of the rest of the team?"

"Buddy," Rhodes says, voice so thin it's clear he means entirely the opposite, "none of us have any interest in leading the team. Let me tell you, if I had to lead this bunch of misfits there'd be superhero on superhero murder within a day."

"We all think Wanda has exactly what it takes to push us beyond what we are," Romanoff says, and there's a warm smile between the two women on the team. One that Vision hopes will stop tabloids from trying to create a false narrative of any cattiness or rivalry between them.

"We've become complacent," Stark says, to a murmur of protest. "No, we have, we know that. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but the real fight is the one to end the fight. To make it clear that the world is protected. And who better to do that that someone who can actually do magic?"

"It's a little more complicated than a plastic wand and a top hat, Tony," Wanda says, and Stark just gives her a shrug and a smile. "I couldn't be more honoured to be trusted with this team. Each and every one of these people is a hero, and now I'm joining them I hope you'll think I'm a hero too."

"Half the world is gonna be in love with her by the end of the day," Sam says, making Vision start violently, he was so absorbed in the interview. "You better get in there fast, Vision, didn't you read that interview with Widow where she says she gets about fifty offers for a date a day? Didn't you see that Twitter moment where some dude bought her a _car_?"

"Oh, it won't be that ridiculous," Vision says, and wonders why there's such a surge of jealousy to think of anyone else vying for Wanda's attention. Why he's narrowing his eyes at the screen when Rogers puts an arm around her and kisses her cheek, though of course he knows full well that Rogers is happily married and more than seventy years her senior.

"You're lucky she actually gave you her number," Sam says, grinning. "Which means you have to call her and make a date. Go get a coffee and get under the corset."

"Gross, Wilson!" Darcy squeals, appearing as if from nowhere just in time to smack Sam upside the head for the comment. "I will not have anyone in this office making sleazy comments about her! You know she's going to get enough of that from the media."

"You better go really rip Rumlow's head off, then," Sam says, and Darcy's eyes gleam. "But actually don't. Please. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't see your beautiful face every day, Lewis."

"Rumlow's ass is getting fired if I have anything to say about it," Darcy says, tossing her hair. "And really, I mean it. No lewd comments about the witch. Tabloids are already tearing her apart because her costume is 'too provocative'."

"Let me guess, they're also tearing her to shreds because she isn't American?" Sam asks, and rolls his eyes when Darcy nods, lips pursed tightly. "I thought we went through all this with Widow, Jesus."

"You know, Vision, maybe you _should_ call her today," Darcy says, arching an eyebrow at Vision. "With all this sudden craziness, it might do her good to hear a friendly voice. Maybe she wants to take some time off from being a glamorous superhero and go get a coffee with a cute guy."

"You never call me cute," Sam says mournfully, and Vision grabs his phone and leaves the two bickering, walking further into the quiet depths of the building and dialling the number he's memorised in the two weeks since Wanda smiled as she shook his hand.

"For the last time, Steve, I'm not reading the articles and I am _fine_!" Wanda snapping down the phone is almost enough to make him hang up, she sounds so angry, but there's a tinge of hurt to her words and he dares to stay on the line.

"Wanda? It's me," he says pathetically, and adds, "It's Vision. I work for Nick Fury."

"Oh, Vizh, I'm sorry, Steve's been calling every five minutes to make sure I'm not reading all these articles tearing me down for wearing something that actually shows I have a body and not working harder to turn off my accent," Wanda says, her accent sharper with anger, and he nods sympathetically before remembering she can't see him, blindsided by the new nickname. "These idiots give journalists like you a bad name."

"I saw you at the press conference," he says, sliding into an empty meeting room and closing the door behind him for some privacy. "You really are great on camera, Wanda. People are so charmed by you, I can tell."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you were reading the comments section," she says, and as casually as she says it he can hear the hurt behind it. "They all think I'm a trashy whore who should go back to my own country. This one particularly kind gentleman is saying I should've died in the Sokovian civil war."

"Well they have no sense of empathy," Vision says, and hears her sigh. "Look...if you need a moment, I know a nice place for dinner just a few blocks from my office. It's an Italian, very quiet, very small, and if you get there between half past five and six you can miss the dinner rush and there will be plenty of desserts to choose from. If you're not busy, maybe...maybe you could meet me there?"

"Did you say half past five?" she asks, and maybe that's a smile he can hear in her voice. "I'd love to, Vizh. But can I meet you from work rather than meet you there? I don't want to pull up to a small place in a chauffeured car."

"...Yes, yes, that would be very nice," he says, feeling himself tripping over the words, and she giggles softly down the phone. "Would you like me to meet you around the back of my office?"

"I'll be there at five," she says, and he nods yet again, like an idiot with their first crush. "Can't wait to see you, Vizh."

"Me too," he says softly, dreamily. "I mean, I...I can't wait to see _you_ , not to see me...I see me all the time, I...I am very excited to see you, i-it should be a very nice meal. I've always liked Italian."

"It'll be nice to have a meal without the team that isn't just whatever we make in the compound," she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice, he's sure of it. "I have to go, Vizh, there's another call for me. I'll see you later."

"Bye." He listens to the dial tone for a long moment after she hangs up, staring at the abstract watercolour mounted on the wall. Wanda Maximoff was happy to talk to him. He could hear her laugh down the phone. She's meeting him in just a few hours for dinner, in a quiet and intimate setting. Some might call what they're planning a date.

He's terrified when the work day ends, his stomach roiling with nerves. After his computer powers down, he stays sat in his cubicle, checking his reflection in the blank screen. Pulling at his hair and his tie, wishing he hadn't worn the navy suit this morning, she's already seen him in it, and his pale grey tie is so boring, he should be showing her more colour. And then Sam appears in his doorway, leaning so casually against the wall, and says, "Ease up, soldier. You look good."

"But what if she-"

"She's clearly already into you, she said yes to the date," Sam points out, the fair point that should be doing something to calm the anxiety clenching at Vision's chest. "And she was checking you out pretty hard at the interview, big guy. Don't make yourself nervous and ruin it."

"I'm trying not to," he says, an unfamiliar sharpness slicing through his words. A sharpness that wounds his friend, and he says, "Sorry...sorry, Sam. You know how long it's been since I went on a date."

"Darcy is going to grab you as soon as you come in on Monday for coffee machine gossip," Sam teases, and Vision can feel heat at the back of his neck, the tips of his ears. "Go on. Swan off like Cinderella with your Superhero Charming while I go home to fix my cabinet door and defrost the freezer. The sheer joy of a Friday night."

"As it is Friday, you could drink while you do it," Vision points out, and Sam grins.

"And that is why we're friends," he says, and reaches into the cubicle to tap his nose. "Your superior intellect. Enjoy the date. And remember, I will end this friendship if you tell Darcy the dirty details before you tell me."

"They're not going to be _dirty_!" he starts to protest, the very implication making a fiery blush break out on his face, and Sam just smirks before he leaves the cubicle. And Vision has to hastily change his planned route to the back exit of the building to pass the water cooler and calm his flushed face with a long sip of very cold water.

Not that it helps when he steps out into the calm chill of the evening and finds Wanda waiting for him. The glorious spill of her dark hair, her eyes shining beneath the wings of her eyeliner, and her outfit is immaculate. The dark red dress clings to the curve of her waist and the swoop of her hips, her long legs in dark tights stretched out where she's leaning against the side of her chauffeured car, the pointed toes of her heeled boots gleaming. The sleeves of her black coat are tucked up over slender wrists and her hands laden with silver rings, and his mouth is dry even before she sees him and gives him a smile that rivals sunlight.

"Hi," she says softly, and he swallows, trying to wet his throat enough to make a sound. "You can head off, Martin. I'll call when I need to go back to the compound."

Her driver, a tall, broad-shoulder man in a pinstriped suit, gives Vision a cursory glance before he nods and gets back into the car. Flustered, but thankful to clearly not be deemed a threat, Vision rallies himself and says, "It's lovely to see you again, Wanda."

"I was hoping you'd call me," she says, and the way she smiles at him makes it impossible to string a sentence together. He's a reporter, he should be capable of setting aside emotions and speaking facts. But the fact is, the way she smiles at him is rendering him incapable of doing anything. "Walk me to this place, then."

She falls into step behind him on the streets of Manhattan, and he's blushing at the eyes of passers-by lingering on them. People are recognising her, seeing the young, glamorous Scarlet Witch, and wondering who the man next to her is. They're surely noticing everything he doesn't like about himself, the ink stains on his hands and the smears of fingerprints on his glasses. They're seeing him and wondering what she's doing with a man like him.

He's grateful for the quiet of the Italian restaurant he chose, only a few families and a group of friends scattered at the tables. The server greets them warmly, though her eyes do dart excitedly to Wanda a few times to make it clear she recognises her, and she seats them in the back booth with a conspiratorial wink. "Rest assured, we won't allow any harassment of our clientele, regardless of their fame," she says, and Wanda grins.

"Thank you," she says. "Remind me to tip you."

The server retreats to the kitchen after taking their orders, her squeal audible before the doors swing shut behind her, and Vision takes a sip from his glass of water before he says, "How...how have you been? Since we last spoke?"

"Technically, we last spoke about three hours ago, and I spent most of that deciding what to wear," she says, and he blushes. He clearly just can't help but embarrass himself in front of this woman.

"I meant-"

"I know, I know, you meant since the interview," she says. "But you are so cute when you're flustered." And that only makes him more flustered, and makes her smile wider. "Everything's gone crazy so fast, honestly. My name is everywhere, I can't even leave the compound to go to the corner store without someone asking me for an autograph. Being on TV is fun, when I get to do it with the rest of the team. We've been training and strategising and Director May has been helping me along with being in charge now. Steve wants to be done phasing out by next month because it's his daughter's birthday." She sighs so long and hard it ruffles her hair, and says, "It's all so surreal. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up on the streets back in Sokovia and the last two years have all been a dream."

"Is that how long it's been since you got your powers?" he asks, and she nods. "I...forgive me, if I'm prying. You don't have to tell me anything. But how did you come by your powers? Were you...born like that?"

"I'm not some kind of god, Vizh," she says, and fidgets with the prongs of her fork. "I...my brother and I were desperate. And we volunteered for experiments. And those experiments gave me my powers. I woke up with other people's thoughts in my head and magic at my fingertips."

"Did he...get powers too?" he asks, and she nods. "Where is he now?"

"He died." There's a terrible hollowness to those two small words, and the silence lingers as their main courses are set down in front of them by their impossibly chirpy server. "We...we were working with HYDRA. I didn't know when we volunteered that that's who they were. And...the Avengers raided the base of the man in charge. Pietro...my brother, he tried to fight them. And Strucker, the man who made us, he laughed when Steve had hold of him. Steve said that Strucker should give himself up or Pietro would die. And..." Her fingers clench on the table, her knuckles white, and her voice is low and dangerous when she says, "And Strucker shot my brother in the head rather than surrender."

"Oh...oh _goodness_ , Wanda, I'm so _sorry_ ," he breathes. Her eyes are distant, and he wonders if he should try to distract her, if a trauma of that magnitude is going to come back and haunt her in this public place.

But she seems to shake herself awake again, back into their moment, and she says, "I almost tore the place apart. When I came back to myself, Strucker was dead. And I'd somehow attacked the teams' minds, given them all terrible visions. Barton was the only one I couldn't take down. I remember he lowered his bow instead of shooting me. That was the turning point. That made me an Avenger." She takes a sip of her drink and says, "I haven't told any other reporters that. I never will."

"I'm not on the clock right now, Wanda," he says, and she smiles. "Anything you say to me, you're telling just me. Just...Vision."

"I like just Vision," she says, her eyes softening. It makes him flustered again, and he takes a too-big bite of his steaming food to distract himself.

But she won't stop looking at him like that. When dessert comes, her gaze stays steady on his while she suggestively licks smears of chocolate sauce from her fingers, flustering him so badly he nearly pours wine directly into his lap instead of his glass. And she's smirking, and after he's paid for their meal and given their server a generous tip she pulls him through the back entrance. "I'm too famous to leave through the front, apparently," she says, and then she's turning to smile at him. "Should I call my car?"

"I'm afraid I can't drive you home, no car of my own," he says apologetically. "I don't think a civilian would be allowed so close to the Avengers Tower anyway."

"Can I tell you something?" she asks, and he wonders what other revelation of her tragic past she might have waiting for him. "Off the record?"

"I promise you, Wanda, unless we are in a clearly-stated interview setting then anything we say to each other won't be shared with anyone," he says, and she's grinning.

"Good," she says softly. "Because I wouldn't want the millions of people who read _NOVA NEWS_ to know that I've been thinking about you since I saw you run for the panic button at the bank instead of fighting to get out."

" _Really_?" The word comes out much squeakier and much more shocked than he would want. He looks ridiculous. And yet, she's still smiling.

"Really," she says. "I was so pleased when I realised you would be interviewing me. And I was overjoyed when you called and asked me on a date."

"I didn't intend for this to be a date-"

"Vizh," she says, ending every one of his potential protests. "Take the hint and kiss me."

And with a sharp intake of breath and a nervous lick of his lips, he does just that. Her hand buries itself in his hair, the ridges of her rings pressing into his scalp, and his arms winds around her, and even the back of a restaurant that smells of rubbish and stale oil can't make him think that this moment is anything but perfect.

* * *

In the weeks after that kiss, he thinks that any moment he'll wake from the dream that is his new life. This can't be him. Victor Shade, reporter for _NOVA NEWS_ , cannot be dating Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch. It simply doesn't add up that he can be seeing her, that she can greet his phone calls with such warmth, that she can be waiting for him when he finishes his perfectly normal nine-to-five.

But she does. She is. They're dating, and the world is catching on. People are throwing his name around the gossip blogs, tracking down his article and gleefully picking it apart to find the tiniest hint of the attraction between him and the new leader of the Avengers. She takes his phone gently from his hand the first time she catches him looking, softly telling him, "Their opinions don't _matter_ , Vizh."

"I'm only looking to determine exactly how infatuated the people thought I was with you when I wrote that article," he says, and she smiles, her eyes bright.

"Well, I was pretty infatuated with you when I tuned up at those offices," she says, leaning across the space between them and curving her hand to his cheek, rising onto her tiptoes. "I hope the feeling was mutual."

"It was," he breathes, and she grins and kisses him.

Of course, not all of the gossip is anything that would boost his fragile confidence in their relationship. Thousands of people think they would be better for Wanda, think that it's a complicated form of self-sabotage to date a reporter when hundreds of writers claiming the same job title are tearing her down, think that he's doing it as some long-game play for an article exposing her secrets. Though those voices are loud at first, they slowly become easier to shut out. It becomes easier for him to believe that Wanda is with him because she wants to be, that she truly doesn't care about what anyone says.

Like the first time she's in his apartment. Lighting up his beige walls and pale furniture with her presence, running her fingers over the spines of the books on his shelf, opening the door of his bedroom and giving him an up and down look filled with seductive promise when she says, "Maybe next time, huh?"

She invites him to the Stark Tower Christmas Spectacular. And Fury deigns to allow him the night off, sending Hope in his place as the official reporter, and he's thrust spectacularly into the glitz and glamour of the Avengers. They even sent a stylist to him, a frankly terrifying woman who gave him a long, hard, appraising look and said, "Never figured Wanda would like them tall and skinny."

When he gets to see Wanda for the first time, his jaw drops. She's wearing red, of course, as she always is, her hair tumbling dark and shiny over her shoulders, red jewels shining at her neck and ears. The dress clings to her like a second skin, plunging front and back, so much of her pale skin on show that he doesn't know where to look, his mouth dry and his blood very much not in his brain. And she looks at him and laughs, crossing the room to brush his hair out of his eyes and smile up into his eyes. "Like what you see?" she teases, and he nods wordlessly, his face flaming red. "You look gorgeous, babe."

"You are so beautiful," he breathes, and leans down to kiss her. When he pulls away, head spinning from the way her tongue so delicately brushed his, she's smirking and reaching up to wipe lipstick stains away from the corners of his mouth.

The party is loud and full and confusing. Music pipes from the speaker system, run by an AI who someone occasionally calls out, "FRIDAY, turn it up!" to. Every guest is dressed in their finery, the Manhattan rich mingling with _NOVA NEWS_ staff and SHIELD agents and the Avengers themselves, the ones everyone is trying to see. And Vision is in the middle of them, being clapped on the shoulder by Tony Stark himself, Iron Man's eyes gleaming when he looks at Wanda and says, "Your boy toy seems to have a little lipstick already, Maximoff."

"Like you haven't done worse in dark corners at parties, Stark," Wanda says, rolling her eyes, and Tony throws back his head and laughs, and it all feels like a spell that won't break.

He dances with his arms full of Wanda, her head on his shoulder, her lips on his as the slow music spins sleepily around the room, making everything enchanted. She introduces him to her team, to the familiar kind smile of James Rhodes, to Natasha Romanoff's intimidating presence in her black dress before she smiles and says, "Wanda gushed about you _so much_ , I'm so glad you asked her out," while Wanda blushes and tries to gesture to her teammate to shut up. He meets Bruce Banner, who gives him a shy smile over his glasses before he returns to arguing with Tony about the music. Clint Barton has his whole family with him, his pretty wife on his arm, his son and daughter daring each other to ask famous names to dance, and his younger son toddling around the dancefloor while people coo over him.

"And you must be the reason my new replacement is so often distracted," comes a voice he recognises. He's known it all his life, from news bulletins and interviews. And he turns slowly to face Steve Rogers in all his golden glory, Peggy Carter-Rogers at his side, both of them as gilded and perfect as they were in their widely-known wedding photograph from 1948. He holds out hand, and Vision gulps. "Steve Rogers."

"It...it's an honour, Captain Rogers," he says, and Captain America just chuckles.

"Please, you're a significant other, no need for titles," he says, and Vision nods, utterly lost for words. "You and Wanda have been together for a few months now, haven't you?"

"Oh Steve, honestly, there's no need to interrorage the poor boy," Peggy says, and this cannot be real. He cannot have Captain America's wife looking at him and giving him a warm smile. "Don't worry about him, darling. He's protective of his team."

"My...my intentions with Wanda are pure, if that's what you're worried about, Captain Rogers," Vision says, all nerves and doubt.

"Hopefully not too pure," Wanda says lightly, appearing as if by magic at his side, and now he really is blushing. His girlfriend made a sex joke in front of Captain America, and she's giving him a sweetly innocent smile. "Come on, babe. I wanna dance."

The night is winding slowly down, people drifting out of the door and down the stairs citing the need to get back to babysitters and early morning wake-up calls. The Avengers are all sprawled across the couches set in a square at the edge of the room, Clint sitting with his youngest son half-asleep in his lap, and Vision is somehow among them. His blazer is draped around Wanda's shoulders, her perfume overwhelming his senses with her leaned against him like that, and Tony is telling some story, a hand waving where his arm is draped around Pepper's shoulder, his fiancée rolling her eyes affectionately at him.

And then Wanda sits up straight, her eyes darting, all traces of sleepiness draining out of her. Then there's a rumble beneath them, and this group of superheroes are moving, untangling themselves from the couches, and Tony cautiously calls out, "FRIDAY, scan the perimeter."

It all happens in an instant. One moment Vision is just trying to straighten up, tipsy with champagne, and the next there's an almighty explosion beneath them and the entire tower sways. And he's not even thinking, barely processing what he's seeing. Tony pressing some hidden button and the Iron Man armour crawling over his suit, hiding his face, Steve shouting, "Where did you hide my shield?!" and Wanda. _Wanda_ , still in her full-length gown, already conjuring waves and waves of red to steady the Tower.

"I don't know how long I can hold this!" she shouts, and _God_ , she's so beautiful, her eyes blazing red, her hair crackling with electricity. "Everyone get out! Now!"

And Peggy and Natasha are both pulling pistols from beneath their dresses, ushering out the terrified straggling guests, Clint and Rhodey are escorting them with their suspicious gazes darting everywhere, and Bruce is hanging back to ask, "Do you need...the other guy?"

"Hopefully not," Tony says, and then his gaze falls on Vision. "Get out, boyfriend. Go. We're handling it."

Vision is the last onto the stairwell, as the entire building sways again, and he clings reflexively to the railing. His heart in his mouth, his mind momentarily whiting out with the thought that he's going to die, he's going to pitch over the railing and fall all those floors and be broken on the floor. He won't even remember what the last thing he said to Wanda was.

Then he steadies himself, and starts to run down the stairs, taking the flights as fast as he can. He nearly trips straight over Nathaniel Barton, too young for this, curled into the corner of the stairwell crying terrified, hiccuping sobs. Not even thinking, Vision scoops him up and keeps running, the little boy clinging tight to the lapels of his blazer, and he can see the bottom of the staircase, he's almost made it.

Another explosion, much closer, and he can see it ripping through the floors. A swell of strange blue light, and for a moment he's transfixed. Then the little boy in his arms _screams_ , and he turns them to the wall, curling himself over the two year old, not knowing how else he can protect him as there's a rumble and part of Stark Tower caves in on top of him.

* * *

There's a faint beeping that brings him to the surface, blinking against the bright white surrounding him. And there are voices, distant but still audible, and when he looks around he sees the collection of cards on the table beside his bed and realises he must be in a hospital. Everything comes rushing back, the explosions and Stark Tower collapsing and Nathaniel Barton sobbing in terror, and he tries to sit up, shake the fuzziness out of his mind and listen to the voices he now recognises as Wanda and Captain Rogers.

"You can't stay here until he wakes up. The doctor said he's going to be alright, and your team _needs_ you-"

"My team has Tony, and Rhodey, and Nat. They're handling it. Nat told me-"

"You're the leader, you should be setting an example, not sat in a hospital room waiting for someone to wake up-"

"He's my _boyfriend_ -"

"You've only been with him for two months-"

"I don't care if I've been with him for two months or two _minutes_ , I care about him! I'm not coming back until he's awake-"

"You have a responsibility to your team and to the public-"

"How would you feel if Peggy had gotten hurt? What if it was James or Sarah in a hospital bed?!"

"This has nothing to do with my wife or my children-"

"No, it has everything to do with my _boyfriend_. Who is just as important to me!"

"People are scared, Wanda-"

" _I'm_ scared! I'm fucking terrified, Steve! I don't know what just happened, I'm exhausted, and my boyfriend is unconscious in a hospital bed. Now if you care so much, go do the press conference yourself. I'm indisposed."

The door swings open and Wanda is there, changed from her dress into leggings and a baggy jumper, her face pale and drawn. She stops still in the doorway when he sees him watching her, and tears shimmer in her eyes. "You're _alright_ ," she breathes, and she's across the room and scattering his face with kisses. "I was so _scared_ , Vizh, I had to watch them dig you out of _rubble_ -"

"Is he alright?" he asks, and his voice is thin and rough, and the longer he's awake the more he's becoming aware of the aches twanging all over his body. "Nathaniel Barton, is he okay?"

"He's fine," Wanda says, and she leans back, her face full of concern and light and love. "Laura is going to break your unbroken ribs hugging you for saving her baby's life."

"I have broken ribs?" he asks, and she sniffs, drawing a hand beneath her eyes to catch the gathered tears/

"Two," she says, and he lifts the blankets to peer down at his taped-up midriff. "The doctor said you got very lucky. A beam fell across the two of you and stopped too much of the Tower falling directly on top of you. That would've killed both of you."

"What happened?" he asks, and her eyes darken. "Is the Tower...did it collapse?"

"Only a section of it, and not a load-bearing one," she says. "Between me and Tony, we managed to steady it. Only after some of the stairs collapsed and fell on you and we had to fly out." She sighs and says, "We don't know what caused the explosion. But they knew about the party. It was so stupid, to put so many people that whoever is trying to throw us into warfare want dead in the same place. We nearly got you _killed_ -"

"I'm alright, Wanda," he promises, and reaches up to touch her face, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone, wondering at how beautiful she can be even under sickly hospital lights. "You...you were amazing. You saved all those people."

"I thought I hadn't saved you," she says softly, and her eyes are filling with tears again. "I thought you were _dead_. I-" She cuts herself off, bites something back, and he reaches for her hand, takes it gently to his lips to press a kiss to her palm. And she clears her throat and softly says, "I love you, Vision."

"I love you too," he says, as naturally as breathing. Nothing could feel more right than telling this wonderful wildfire of a woman he loves her. Even if he would rather be saying this under a star-studded night, perhaps with a string quartet playing in the background, not from a hospital bed backed by the electric hum of the machines.

"Something is coming, and it's coming fast," she says, and clutches fast at his hand. "I have to lead them through it. I just have to."

"You can do it," he says softly, and sees all the doubt invading her face. Remembering what he overheard of her and Steve's conversation in the corridor, and he says, "You don't have to worry about me. You can just do what you were meant to do and lead them."

"I promise you, Vizh," she says softly, her eyes hard and sure, "no matter what happens, I'm going to protect you. No matter what's coming to Earth, it's not going to hurt you."

* * *

He can't even begin to count the number of insane things that have happened to him recently. He was saved from a bank robbery by a new superhero. That same superhero happened to be the most beautiful woman in the world. And then she went and fell in love with him. He went to a party at Stark Tower that was attacked and saved Hawkeye's youngest son. Just this morning, a portal in the sky opened and aliens poured out of it, and Manhattan is being ravaged by enormous flying metal creatures while the Avengers blur across the skies trying to stop them.

And now his co-worker is standing in front of them in the newspaper offices they're trapped in, dressed in traditional Norse armour and a heavy red cape, a silver hammer in his hand, and he's blinking at the way Darcy's mouth has dropped open like its on a hinge before he says, "So...there may be some explaining to do."

"You're _Thor_?!" Darcy exclaims. "Like, _Thor_ Thor? From the legends? God of Thunder?"

"The legends did tend to use a little poetic license," Thor says, and Darcy is still gaping at him.

"Does Jane know-"

"Jane found me and my brother when we were thrown through the Bifrost by an enemy and crash-landed in New Mexico," he says, and Darcy is reeling around the room, shoving her hands through her hair. Vision is just staring past Thor, out of the window, looking desperately for a dart of glowing red across the sky that shows him Wanda is alright. "I know this is a lot to take in-"

"I'm friends with a _god_?!" Sam shouts, strangled with shock, and Thor just shrugs. "Jesus...Jesus _Christ_ , I bought a two thousand year old _god_ novelty Christmas boxers for office Secret Santa last year!"

"I was very fond of those," Thor says, grinning. "SHIELD put me undercover here. Well...this whole paper is SHIELD controlled, really. Fury is the secret co-director. Melinda is the public one."

"My whole _career_ is a front for a secret organisation of spies and assassins and superheroes?!" Darcy shrieks.

"Well, you'll get an excellent reference and a job anywhere you want when this is all over," Thor says, and there's a shriek as one of the aliens crashed through the window. "If you'll excuse me-"

Lightning crackles up the length of his hammer before he crashes it through the alien with a flash of light, knocking it back onto the streets, and he turns to look at them, almost cheerful. "Get to the streets and get underground. The police are helping direct everyone off the streets until this is over."

"Who's doing this?" Vision asks, the first time he's spoken since Thor appeared in all his glory in front of them. "What's happening?"

Thor's face darkens, and his jaw grits before he speaks a single word. "Loki."

"Your _brother_?!" Sam exclaims. "Wait...he's a god too? He's the...the legendary god of mischief? He brought _aliens_ to Earth? He's the _villain_?!"

"He's adopted," Thor says, and he's gone, flying out of the hole in the window, leaving a rush of wind and utter confusion in his wake.

"Well," Sam says, looking at Vision, Darcy still pacing back and forth behind the muttering to herself, "I'd love to say this explains a lot, but I'm a lot more confused than I was five minutes ago."

"We should get to ground level," Vision says, and drags his two co-workers with him.

Darcy finally speaks when they get down to the ground, out into the frigid winter day. "I _knew_ I was right to be suspicious of Loki!"

And Vision cracks a small smile before there's a police officer in their faces, ushering them towards the subways and safety below ground. Before he's swallowed up by the crowds, he chances a last desperate glance up towards the sky, hoping for a glimpse of Wanda. But she's nowhere to be seen, and he has to force down the voice at the back of his mind that's trying to convince him something terrible has already happened.

When the police call down to them that it's over, he's one of the first back out into the light. Running frantically around the destroyed streets, past the twitching bodies of dying aliens, the enormous metal body of one of the flying creatures lying dead over the top of several buildings. He ignores the warnings of police officers telling him to stay back from the destruction, searching desperately for the Avengers.

He finds them with more confusion. Nick Fury, the man he's only known as his editor-in-chief, is standing side-by-side with Melinda May. He's dressed in a black coat that billows in the wind, an eye-patch covering his scarred eye, and Coulson and Hill are standing either side of him, both wearing suits and sunglasses and holsters at their hips. Thor is bruised and bloodied, his cape torn, and there's something pained in the set of his mouth as he shoves his handcuffed brother into an armoured car.

The scene is overwhelming to look at. Tony Stark's Iron Man armour is missing its helmet. Bruce Banner is wrapped in a blanket and holding a mug of something steaming, his skin still faintly green. Natasha Romanoff is kneeling on the ground in her dust-covered uniform, easing James Rhodes' leg out of his crushed armour while the man winces and grits his teeth. Clint Barton is on his phone, and Vision can hear him softly saying, "We're okay, everyone is okay, no permanent damage...yes, of course I was _careful_ , Laura, but there were _aliens_ pouring out of the sky-"

And then everything falls away when he sees Wanda. Her eyes are still faintly red, one sleeve of her coat torn entirely off, her hair filled with dust, and she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. And her eyes find his, and she stops talking to the agent next to her, tripping over the ground and into his arms. "I was so _scared_ ," she breathes, her hands sinking into his hair, her nails digging into him, her grip desperate. "Thor said he told you to get underground but I didn't _know_ , I thought you were _hurt_ -"

"This is what you meant by a higher plane of warfare?" he asks, and she pulls back. Bites her lip and nods, and he looks around at Manhattan in the wake of an alien invasion. "Wanda, this is...insane."

"This is what I was brought on to fight," she says. "If...if this is too much for you, we can...stop."

It takes him a moment to realise what she's implying, and then he gasps, "Oh, Wanda, _no_. I don't want to end this between us. I just...I wasn't expecting fights like this when I kissed a superhero."

"Get used to it, Vizh," she says, a slight teasing lilt to her voice. "We...the team are gonna go for something to eat. Saving the world makes you pretty hungry." She glances up at him from under her lashes and says, "But I don't have to join them. I can hang out with my boyfriend and do something with all this saving the world adrenaline."

"I love you," he says softly, and she beams. "But go be with your team. I think Darcy is losing her mind over realising Thor is part of the Avengers and I need to go check on her."

"Then do you mind if I come over later?" she asks, her eyebrow rising suggestively, and he blushes.

"Not at all."


End file.
